


Revival

by bespectacled



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5797342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bespectacled/pseuds/bespectacled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> The one thing she finds herself truly aware of is that Solas is the one pulling her to her feet, and his eyes are full of concern. He reaches for her face, magic crackling on his fingertips, but she shakes her head - “I'm alright, I think.” </i>
</p>
<p> In which Lavellan dies/faints in battle. A lot. </p>
<p> Semi-fluff, semi-angst - falls in battle from the start to the epilogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revival

She doesn't really remember what happened, but one minute she was upright and the next horizontal, with a thumping headache and a dry feeling in her throat, being helped to her feet by Cassandra. “You're alright” feels more an order than a question.

 

It stays with her in camp that evening – she hasn't quite been able to follow conversations today and she's wondering if sleep is a good idea (though it's an incredibly tempting one) – as she sits beside the fire, blanket around her shoulders.

 

“Here.” Solas is to her left, and she's not entirely certain how long he's been there – her head feels incredibly woozy. “It'll help.”

 

She stares at him blankly for a second before realising he's holding a small cup – she finds herself smiling. “Thank you.” She takes it from him (noticing that he holds onto it for slightly too long – maybe she can't be trusted just yet) and inhales deeply. “Tea? You don't like tea.”

 

“It's brewed from elfroot.” He replies, a bemused smile crossing his lips.

 

“Will it make me magically better? Actually _magically_?” She feels her eyes widen as she says it and takes a long sip. “It's bitter.”

 

“It will aid the healing process.” He says simply.

 

“Will you watch me? When I sleep. So I don't die. You did it before, didn't you?” She's so tired, and this tea is very, very soothing, and she can feel everything just starting to melt a bit at the edges. “You protected me.”

 

She doesn't see the smile on his face as she finishes her tea, eyes closing, vaguely aware that it would be a much better idea to fall asleep in her tent.

 

* * *

 

The next time she falls in battle she feels much more aware of it, and it terrifies her – not that she has the time to think about it in any detail, her last act loosing an arrow before feeling something hitting her back.

 

The one thing she finds herself truly aware of is that Solas is the one pulling her to her feet, and his eyes are full of concern. He reaches for her face, magic crackling on his fingertips, but she shakes her head - “I'm alright, I think.” She glances back at their foe – falling, now – and feels very aware that Solas has his arm around her shoulders, ostensibly holding her up but it feels like more than that and -

 

He is guiding her, pulling her away, out of sight and her heart thuds in her chest wondering what he's doing, what he's planning, and then she sees the projectile and she curses. He has let go and his staff is aglow, she fumbles with her bow - “Don't. Let me.”

 

“I can take care of myself.” The words spill out and she feels like a petulant child, instantly regretting them as she takes aim, the arrow hitting its mark – and despite injury, it lands well, though she wishes she had thought to poison it.

 

He is patient, understanding, all too kindly for what she wants from him - “You're injured, Herald.”

 

“Ellana.” She meets his eyes. “Please.”

 

“Ellana.” He repeats, trying the word for size, and she melts, just a little, hearing a name as dull as hers enriched by _that voice_.

 

* * *

 

The third time she doesn't actually collapse to the ground, heavily injured – she stumbles, is knocked back, but she remains conscious, and would be very able to have stood up on her own, thank you, save for one detail.

 

Varric supports her. “Easy there. You're ok.”

 

She nods, though it's an understatement, possibly the understatement of the age.

 

He'd said her name. More than said it, shouted it, maybe even screamed it, cried it out in desperation because he was worried about her. Maybe.

 

Her real name. Her actual name.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you're alright?” He is hovering at her door, awkward, as if he is unsure why he's there. “You've taken a few knocks recently.”

 

She can't help but smile, feeling an adolescent blush rising in her cheeks. She feels very, very young around him, even though she knows he can't be that much older. “Yes. I'm still getting used to hitting targets that are quite so desperate to hit you back. I'm still...learning.” She tips her head. “Maybe I should ask Varric about some lessons.”

 

Solas nods, taking a light comment rather heavier than intended. “It may be a good plan.”

 

“Maybe you could teach me.” Once upon a time, she's sure, she had some sort of filter, something that stopped words just spilling out of her. She should be able to trust her own mouth.

 

“I'm not sure how much help that would be.” Solas replies, thoughtful. “Though I'll give you any help I can.”

 

She feels like her smile will split her face, that she's so happy from such a small gesture – she feels like a giddy teenager, grasping at the smallest things, making much of things that are probably nothing but oh, wouldn't it be wonderful if...

 

“Ellana?”

 

“Yes? Sorry. Lost in thought.” She swallows, bringing herself back to the moment. “Would you like to have a drink? Or go for a walk? I'd like to clear my head, and...I'd like your company.”

 

He smiles, and her heart thuds a little faster – her cheeks feel like they're burning, though she hopes it isn't showing. “Would you like to go now?”

 

* * *

 

It has been a long time since she's fallen in battle but she hasn't judged this well – she is overwhelmed, feeling utterly unprepared. She heard him as she stumbled down, hating the blackness that surrounded her and the pain that burned - heard his cry of “ma vhenan” as she dropped to the ground.

 

Sera wrinkles her nose as she tugs her to her feet. “Is that elfy shit? Proper elfy.”

 

She wonders how to explain – although it isn't really that realistic that they would manage to keep things secret for very long, she'd rather her relationship with Solas wasn't common knowledge just yet. “It's elven, yes.”

 

“Are you two just talking in elfy shit now?” Her eyes narrow. “Are you doing it?”

 

“Just because we - “

 

“ _You totally are._ ”

 

She briefly thinks about trying to distract Sera with the continuing battle but somehow that feels pointless. “Don't tell anyone. Not yet.”

 

Sera appears to consider it. “So long as I can take the piss. But in private, yeah?”

 

“I don't think anyone could stop you from taking the piss.” Her relief was palpable. Sera is a good friend, all told - reliable.

 

“Does his cock glow? Like, with magic?” Sera wrinkles her nose, aiming a shot. “I'd be worried I'd like...catch something... Can you catch magic?”

 

“Sera.”

 

“Does he use magic _on you?_ Like, kinky shit?”

 

She wonders how long this will go on for, though she has a strong feeling that it won't stop for quite some time.

 

* * *

 

“Were we keeping things secret?” She tucks a loose section of hair behind her ear, considering her next move. She never used to play chess that much, but it was a pleasant distraction in the evenings, and a comparably innocent reason for Solas to be in her room. She had considered playing with him out in the garden but given the way their chess games usually ended it wasn't the best idea.

 

He looks up from the board at her. “I haven't told anybody, but I hadn't thought of us as secret as such.” She makes her move as he speaks.

 

“Sera noticed that you called me vhenan.” She consciously doesn't look at him when she says it, focussed on the board, on the attack she just commenced.

 

“Ah.” He feels a slight warmth in his cheeks, remembering the moment clearly – though he is less aware of what he said and more aware of the feelings that erupted the moment Ellana had fallen, especially after so long. “Did she...know what I said?”

 

Her eyes lift, and she smiles. “I'm not used to seeing you discomforted.” He opens his mouth, apparently considering protesting, but seems to think better of it. “She recognised that it was elven and drew her own conclusions from there. She isn't going to tell anyone. But she did tease me mercilessly.”

 

He smiles at that, making his move – side-stepping her attack, as she should've known he would. “Oh?”

 

“She was very intrigued as to the role of magic in our sex life.”

 

He arches his eyebrows. “Did she have any good ideas?”

 

She smirks. “Nothing we haven't already tried.”

 

* * *

 

She knows that Cole means well when he helps her up, but she cannot help but resent it – even as she'd fallen she'd found herself hoping that it would be Solas who helped her up. She finds herself craving something that proves he still cares about her (though in truth he never told her that he didn't) even though it might make it hurt more. But it's Cole – he is here to help, she knows that. He smiles at her, seeing her eyes flick to Solas.

 

“He loves you. He can't stop. He doesn't know how.”

 

That hurts more than the lightening that she is fairly sure scarred her thigh.

 

“You changed everything.”

 

She shakes her head softly. “I don't think you can take away this hurt, Cole.” She looks over at Solas – he is swinging his staff, fire burning from it, burning their foe, and, all-importantly, not looking at her.

 

“He hurts too.”

 

She inhales deeply, draws her bow, and aims – there is nothing else to be done.

 

* * *

 

 

It is a long, long time until she next falls. Everything has changed now – there is a constant ache in her bones and her heart. Most of what she feels at present is a loss, an absence – his absence. There are whispers of betrayal – Leliana does her best to keep her informed, Josephine does her best to keep it as painless as possible.

 

As she stumbles to the ground there is a brief relief that burns through her – rest. She can give in for a little while. Her burden should have been removed, but it remains, has increased, and it threatens to break her. She has tried to suppress her own heartbreak, knowing that in the grand scheme of things it was the least of her problems, but it was the thing that hurt the most.

 

She sees a wolf in the shadows as she edges into oblivion, its eyes locking with hers – it feels like sadness. Even in her current state she knows that is ridiculous.

 

Cassandra pulls her to her feet, as she did all that time ago - “You're alright.” It's more gentle this time, the words of a friend, and she feels her eyes resting on her whilst she readies her bow, gathers herself, and shoots.

 

The wolf is gone by the time she thinks to pursue it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my thoughts around what happens in canon when you end up knocked out. And then angst, because of course. My first foray into DAI fanfic (well, first published, there may well be more on the way...) and first fanfic in approximately forever.The working title for this fic was "in which there is a lot of falling over" which I think I prefer over the actual title.... Concrit much appreciated <3


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